whipping post

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Whipping Post, Epilogue

That night, we all went back to my place and fell asleep in my bed. By we all, I mean Pup, Saltine and I.

In the morning, we sort of ended up lazily touching each other, which turned into us all kissing and, well.

When I contacted Sir and checked that it was okay if I fucked Saltine, he replied with “sure but I thought you thought they were obnoxious.” 

Which yes but SORRY sometimes I can’t help myself. So we fucked around until we got hungry, and I walked into my kitchen to make breakfast. I could see through the doorway Pup still fucking Saltine in my bed, and it tapped into some weird mix of compersion and my mild mild mild cucking fantasy that made the encounter both sweet and hot. 

Afterwards, I ended up back in bed with them, Pup fucking me while Saltine watched. “I’m jealous,” Saltine said, and I thought they meant of me until they added, “I want to fuck her like that, Daddy.” (Yeah, Saltine and Pup had a tiny bit of a Daddy/little dynamic.)

I felt myself blushing as Pup pushed my face into my pillow. “You want them to fuck you?”

“M…maybe one day,” I stammered out. But I realized after Pup punished me for sassing him by pulling out and slapping my pussy, and Saltine got mean and told him he should do it again that yeah, okay, maybe I wanted to fuck this person sometime.

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Whipping Post, Part Seven

While I was coming down, I realized that the girl with the cute butt getting tied up and spanked was the friend I came with. Yeah, the friend who almost didn’t come and said she was just going to watch. I was insanely proud.

When she was finished, we went and sat down on the couches to talk about it. And though I was trying to be attentive and supportive, I couldn’t help but keep glancing over to watch Pup and Saltine. Particularly, Saltine.

Like I’ve said, I’d never been interested in Saltine before. Saltine was, in my opinion, too young – yes, nineteen is too young for me – and I found them a little naive and, yeah, kind of obnoxious. But I don’t know. They were gorgeous. They had a cute, fit body. And the qualities about them that previously annoyed me or made me jealous were suddenly becoming really attractive.

So, naturally, I was totally kicking myself.

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Whipping Post, Part Six

Pup had me clean off the whipping post after we were done with a sanitary wipe and then had me walk out the used condom in front of everyone over to the garbage can at the other end of the party. I was blushing like crazy, Pup motioning me to come back over. He put my aftercare blanket around me and sat with me for a little while as I came down.

It turns out that we’d been at it longer than we thought, and Saltine seemed a little miffed. So, I sent him off to go be with them, feeling kind of bad that we’d lost track of time. 

The girls who’d been across from us came over and asked if they could sit with me. Together, we were watching a guy tie up a girl with a cute butt. “You were really lovely on that post,” one of the girls said. I was a little subspaced, and my head was cloudy from all the impact play. The girl asked if she could play with my hair and I agreed, feeling small and fussed over and pliant.

Pup came back over to let me know he was going to play with Saltine and to ask if I was all right with that. He touched my cheek and I felt even smaller. I don’t really know how to explain it, besides that when I get into a certain space from pain, my brain just goes quiet.

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Whipping Post, Part Five

Pup had me hold onto the post and face the girls. He slipped the condom on and entered me roughly, holding onto my hips. He fucked me hard and I knew I was being loud, knew that the girls were aware of me.

I tried my hardest to avoid looking at them, I was pretty shy about the whole thing. But every so often Pup would tug my hair and I would be made to look, or he would grab onto my throat for a little bit and my head would be forced up. 

It wasn’t that seeing them wasn’t hot. I’m not much of a voyeur, but the issue was more that I would be caught staring while I was in a fairly compromised position.

Regardless, I came looking at them.

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Whipping Post, Part Four

I kept my head down while I walked past people to grab a condom, slipping back over to the play area and attempting to avoid conversation. I didn’t exactly want to have to say, “sorry, I have to go get fucked” to somebody who was trying to talk to me.

The section across from us had been behind me while I was being whipped, and aside from brief glimpses into the mirror to see some people walk by or pause to watch, I hadn’t really been paying attention to what was going on there. But when I returned to hand the condom to Pup, I got a look at the people inside. There were two girls: one sitting up on a stool, the other eating her out.

Pup pushed me down to my knees and put the condom in his back pocket. “Come on, get me ready,” he said. But, when I went to unzip his pants, he pushed me away. “Beg for it.”

I rolled my eyes. I have never, ever understood the whole begging to do a thing the person has clearly just asked you to do. Sure, yeah, it’s for the purpose of humiliation, but it seems so redundant sometimes. But, I begged regardless until he let me unzip his pants and take his cock out.

Once I’d sucked him off for a little while, he hauled me up to my feet by my hair. “Hold onto the post,” he said. “I’m going to fuck you.”

I went to get into my old position, but he stopped me. “Nope, this side this time.” I felt myself blushing. He wanted me to face the girls.

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Whipping Post, Part Three

“I’m not going to fuck you yet,” Pup replied. “You’re disgusting, you know that?” He reached between my legs and rubbed my pussy through the gusset of the bodysuit I was wearing. “You’re a disgusting whore and I’m going to have to fix you. I’m going to make you a good girl.”

I leaned back against him as best as I could. “Yes, Sir.”

He shoved me forward against the post. “Do you know how I’m going to make you a good girl?”

“I don’t know, Sir,” I said. He hit me with the belt again, hard. “I said I don’t know,” I repeated.

Pup kept hitting me. “Come on, take a guess. How do you make someone a good girl?”

I cried out as he delivered a few more rough blows. “I…I don’t know. You hurt them?” He kept hitting me and I kept guessing. I don’t even remember what I’d said or even what the answer was. But I remember that when he finally stopped and told me, I was both in incredible pain and really, really turned on. I think I’d been crying, and there was a sheen of sweat on my forehead when I looked at myself in the mirror.

“If you can take ten hits from my belt and hold perfectly still and stay quiet, I’ll fuck you,” Pup said while I composed myself. He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Are you ready?”

I nodded. He went right for the back of my calves, and he got in maybe three hits before I flinched away and cried out. I rested my head against the post and let out a long whine when he told me that we were going to keep going until I got ten. He started over, putting in a few hits on my legs before moving to my upper arm. I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing any attempt at making noise under deep breaths. This time, I managed.

“Good girl,” Pup said and smoothed my hair back. I wanted to be a little defiant, thinking I’d earned it from succeeding, but instead I ended up pressing my head against him until he moved to untie me from the post. I stumbled off of it, Pup steadying me for a moment as I got my bearings. My skin felt electric with pain, my mind both keen and hazy with the weird, blurred alertness that comes with endorphins.

Giving me a shove out of the play area, Pup told me to go get a drink of water and a condom.

sadism-addicted-whore:

source: youtube

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Whipping Post, Part Two

He didn’t have a whip, so he used his belt.

I’ve mentioned time and again on here that I’m not a masochist, and people usually find that kind of funny. But I am genuinely not. I don’t enjoy pain. It takes a lot of work (and only recently has this actually come to fruition, but more on that another day) to get the right endorphin rush or zen head going from getting beaten. It’s happened, but it flat-out doesn’t. 

Pup’s a sadist. And he, like Sir, seem to enjoy pain play with me specifically because I am not a masochist. I consent to being hurt because I like giving someone the right to do that, I enjoy what that implies. Not because I like getting hurt. Neither of them are the kind of sadists who want someone egging them on to hurt them more. They want someone who, although they are consenting and enjoying the encounter, are not specifically liking what is going on because of the pain. And, yeah, I hate pain.

He mostly concentrated on my back and my butt, as well as the backs of my thighs. He stopped when I needed him to, but I found that as soon as the threshold widened to a point that I would start to adapt to the pain, he’d switch to someplace else. There is a point where I can kind of sink into pain and it becomes so constant that it almost feels comfortable. He never let me reach that point.

As awful as it felt, I liked that. I liked that he beat me on my upper arms, right in the sensitive place between the triceps and the biceps, forcing me to twist my bound wrists and hold my arms out to give him a good point to hit. I liked that he was paying enough attention to figure out when I was sinking into the pain, and then switch it up so quickly I barely had time to react. 

But I didn’t realize how turned on I was getting until he pushed himself up against me again and grabbed my throat. His other hand moved between my legs and he started laughing. “Want it already?”

I looked up at myself in the mirror and realized I was grinding against him. I’d been ready to tell him off, but instead I just blushed and whined, “will you please? I want to get fucked.”

He stepped away from me and managed to hit me between the legs with the belt. I cried out and rested my forehead against the post, feeling my eyes well up with tears. 

“Please?” I choked out.

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Whipping Post, Part One

In mid-December, we all went to a play party. It was the first time I’d gone to a play party without Sir.

The evening started out pretty tame. Saltine, Pup, one of Saltine’s friends and I arrived at the party after hanging around at Pup’s place for a little bit, and a friend of mine who had previously said she was too shy to go showed up anyway. 

I congratulated her for being super brave. In addition to just being an awesome thing for her to face her fears and show up at the party, it made me feel good about being there myself. I was a little anxious about being there without Sir, as well as being nervous about being there with Saltine. I am an absolute anxious perfectionist, so the idea of us not really wanting to play together and also not really knowing how to divvy up the time left me a little on edge. It’s the kind of thing were I just want everything to be perfect and everybody to be happy and Jesus nobody wants to make firm plans.

Pup came over and told me that he wanted to play with me. I was feeling a little bratty, so I spent a some time avoiding it by running off to grab a drink or talk to someone. But, somewhere in the middle of talking my friend, Pup came over, grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me off to the back of the party. 

The back area was partitioned off into two rows of little semi-private play areas, separated by curtains through which one could easily see silhouettes of the people behind them. The area he took me to was right near the front of the row, such that the party could see us through the curtains. Inside was a small raised platform, and atop the platform was a long, wooden post. The entire apparatus faced a mirrored wall.

Pup moved me up onto the platform and guided my hands to hold onto the post. He slid my legs apart by easing his feet between mine. For a moment, he stood pressing his weight against me, pinning me against the post. It’s a move he’d pulled before, when we were out on our second date and we were playing pool. That time, it was under the auspices of helping me to play, but I understood the intention behind it both that time and this one. It’s a power play, a move to demonstrate the differences in both height and strength, a way to say that he can overpower me. It’s also more or less a way to grind his cock against me.

Gathering up a length of rope, he arranged my hands further up the post and tied them there by threading the rope through a loop at the top of the post. 

“Am I in trouble?” I asked as he set to pushing my feet further apart. There were two more metal loops on the platform, and he was already tying two lengths of rope around my ankles.

He chuckled and shook his head. “What do you think, princess?” He’d been in the habit of calling me that then, always condescendingly, always in such a way that I protested being called it. He tied off the ropes and my legs were stuck spread almost uncomfortably wide. 

I shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe.”

Pup rose up to his feet and sunk his fingers into my hair. He tugged back so hard, so suddenly that the memory of watching it happen in the mirror in front of me – of seeing it all too quickly before all the saw was the ceiling – is still as vivid as ever.